She wasn't unusually happy, nor was she sad.
She was more in between those two things than anything else.
When days got unusually hard, she'd use some liquid courage to get her through the day.

Her eyes glazed over and lost their mirth,
Her tongue morphed into one of a serpent; perfect for slicing my skin with her angry words.

In that moment I could see her her true nature, the one that loved to use her mouth before her mind to bruise my heart.

The one who couldn't stand on two feet, or properly count to ten without messing up.

The one who was under the influence of the devils nectar; sweet and savory, yet poison.

She wasn't a human in that moment.

No, she was a puppet.
A puppet who wobbled, and slurred.
A puppet who was swaying to the devils melodic tune; going only towards the dark side.

What happened to the woman I once knew?
Was she lost between heaven and hell?